Aiden laughed at that. “I’ve never heard it explained that way.”

“Maybe we should get some wine?”

“You’re not shopping for the week, are you?” Aiden said, turning to face her. His smile was a bemused one. “You’re just focused on one meal to the next.”

“That’s how I eat.”

“You seem like a planner though.”

Antonia jutted her chin in defiance. “I’m on vacation.”

His green eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’m issuing you a challenge, Ms. Harper.”

“I don’t know if I want to accept it.”

“I encourage you to accept.”

How could she deny him? How could she look into those smiling eyes and say no?

He could ask her to marry him with those eyes and she’d start planning the next wedding. “Fine.”

“I’m going to pick out the ingredients for my favorite cake and we’re going to bake it together.”

Antonia grimaced. “I hope you’re kidding.” She followed him through the aisles as he plucked random baking ingredients from the shelves. He completely bypassed the ready-mix cake batters and picked up a bag of white flour.

“I’m not asking you to kill a puppy, darling,” he joked. “It’s a simple cake.”

She sighed. Antonia loved a challenge as much as the next person. Wait, maybe that isn’t the case... “You don’t want to end up sick on your vacation, do you?”

“Confidence is key, my dear. I’ll be by your side the entire time and I’ll even let you lick the spoon,” Aiden said with laughter in his voice. He balanced a carton of eggs on top of his items and turned to face her. With one strong arm, he pulled her close, ducking his head for another kiss. His lips brushing over hers made her knees weak. She leaned against his hard body, clutching her basket. While looking up into his eyes, she saw something that wasn’t raw passion. It was a soft loving expression that made his eyes look kind. If he kept kissing her like this, she would agree to climb an Irish mountain and swim the freezing Atlantic.

She breathed shakily before answering. “Yes.”

Thoroughly engrossed in the saga of a local vineyard owner in the middle of the French Revolution, Aiden flipped through the pages at lightning speed. Apparently, Claudette’s father died and left her to manage the family winery, which serviced the royal family of Versailles. And although she was the daughter of a merchant, she regularly found herself amongst the vile people of Louis XVI’s court. Her love interest was the young man who helped her manage the farm, but Claudette was also being pursued by an unscrupulous duke who may have killed his wife.

“Where are you at?” Antonia’s voice and the sounds of the coffee place were faraway echoes that Aiden had shut out over an hour ago. “Aiden?”

His eyes snapped up to see her laughing eyes. “Huh?”

“Is it that good?”

Aiden sat up in his seat and looked around him. Letterfrack’s only coffee shop, Pooka’s Beans, was busy with weekend traffic, but he was in 18th century France waiting for the powder keg of the Bastilles to blow up. “Claudette just had sex with Jean Paul, but she thinks it was a mistake. I don’t know how she could think that; Jean Paul is perfect for her. I hate the duke and how he keeps cornering her. And I don’t know, can we trust this Pauline woman? Is she selling secrets of the court to the Jacobins? If so, is Claudette going to get caught up in the crossfire?”